


On Time

by PaleBeyond



Series: A Very Parselmouth AU [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dementors, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Minor Character Death, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleBeyond/pseuds/PaleBeyond
Summary: Third year, and Harry is whisked off by a very nervous Mr. Weasley. Between half of the school thinking Harry's still the Heir of Slytherin and the ever-present dementors, he really doesn't want to engage with the madman hunting him down. He has runes to study and renovations to complete...





	1. Chapter 1

_Hello again. It’s my birthday today. Well, just. July 31 by a minute._ A pen tapped on the paper impatiently, or perhaps thoughtfully. Just three taps. _Dudley’s made himself a nuisance again. Malfoy writes me that he’s allowed to do magic in his house, because they can’t trace it. His parents actually encourage practice outside of school. All I want is to keep up on theory, but as soon as I pull out my school books Dudley’s racing to tell. I’m sick of reading by torch. I can’t wait to go back to Hogwarts._ Three taps again, waiting for something, then Harry closed the slim black book and pushed away from the desk. He picked up the little diary and locked it in his trunk, pocketing the key. He wouldn’t put it past the Dursley boy to try and destroy anything that looked like it could be used to educate. He wasn’t sure if it was instinct or what, but Dudley really hated books.

Harry really hated the whole house. He was alone all the time. It was, of course, preferable to spending time with the Dursleys, but he was never alone at Hogwarts. He never felt lost at Hogwarts.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his window. Another tap. _Owls._

“ _Owls,”_ he warned his familiar. “ _Four.”_

“ _Disgusting,”_ the familiar whined back, curling further under the bed.

“Hello, everyone. Nice of you to all show at the same time.” He recognized Draco’s owl, barred gold, and Errol, the Weasleys’ family owl. There was also a courier owl. The last of them looked like it might have come from Hogwarts itself, they had quite a few brown owls there. Actually, that bottle-green script looked familiar; it was a school letter, with a lumpy, twitching parcel attached.

He read the school letter, about books and the like, with a permission slip he would have to puzzle out, then turned to the moving mass. Hagrid… he set it carefully beneath the bed for Seshhe. “ _What is it? Hagrid sent it.”_ He busied himself getting a bit of water from the bottle by his bed, dumping it into a dish for the owls. The note Hagrid sent was cryptic at best, but held genuine birthday wishes and said hi to Seshhe.

_“Hagrid,”_ Seshhe approximated the name with a bit of joy. The snake was quite familiar with Hogwarts’ groundskeeper, having lived with him for quite a while last term. “ _Sent us a… book? An angry book. A very angry book!”_

The sounds from underneath the bed were becoming quite alarming, so Harry abandoned the owls with a few treats he kept handy and leaned down. Almost immediately he swung back up, Seeker’s reflexes saving the tip of his nose. “That’s not a book!” The next few minutes were spent leashing the thing while the owls looked on.

“Great help, you guys. Thanks. Really.” But Harry could talk to snakes, not owls. They didn’t respond except to look really judgmental, which Harry thought might be their regular expression. “Alright, thanks, you next,” he motioned to the courier owl. It was from Hermione, who had sent him a beautifully styled bookmark, leather impressed with the image of holly leaves. He didn’t use bookmarks a lot, but it was a very nice one, and it only hurt a bit to think of the holly wand locked away in the small cupboard under the stairs. She talked a lot about France in her letter, and mentioned Ron had won some sort of wizard lottery? He would have to look at Errol next. But when he let the courier go, muttering he had no return post, the Malfoy owl was imperiously stretching out his leg. Of course, Harry sighed.

“Harry,” the boy in question read aloud, “I trust you’ve found a way to get to your schoolbooks since you last owled. It would be such a shame if you had to scramble to keep up the first few weeks of term. Father’s been incorrigible since my last letter, not that it’s new. The Weasleys’ good fortune for some reason has him seeing red. I had to sneak my owl out to send you your birthday present. I know you’ll like it.

Happy birthday, Harry.

Draco.

By the way- we’re all meeting in Diagon Alley sometime after Ronald gets back from Egypt. Be there.”

Grabbing a spare bit of parchment on his desk, he scribbled, ‘Thanks for the birthday wishes. Happy for the Weasleys and probably a bit glad your dad’s pissed about it. Dursleys still have my stuff locked up, mildly considering breaking the law and hexing them. Not really. Maybe. Can’t wait for school, see you then, Harry.’ He tied it to the owl, who gave it a doubtful shake, hooted, and sailed out the open window.

Only then did he find the edge of the impeccably wrapped gift and peel it open. Within was a little ornate box, which unlatched to reveal a little silver ball. At Harry’s touch, the orb unfurled into a perfectly smooth snake. It arched like a cobra and opened its mouth to reveal tiny silver fangs and breathed light into the air, coalescing into ’12:17 pm July 31, 1993.’ Magic. Of course, it also seemed expensive, but that was just Malfoy.

Errol, still drinking from the water provided, didn’t even move when Harry pulled the letter from his leg.

Ron had sent him a pocket sneakoscope and a newspaper clipping exulting in the Weasleys’ luck. Ron waved cheerfully at him, Scabbers in hand, surrounded by the whole clan. Harry smiled. Winning some sort of wizard lotto was the least Ron and the twins deserved, after the mess that was last year. Ginny waved out from the cover of the paper as well. She looked well, dark circles finally gone from her eyes in the glare of Egypt. Harry caught himself before he looked back to his school trunk. Errol’s characteristic thunk-flap-flap called him back, and he closed his window against the summer air.

“ _It’s nice to be remembered,”_ he commented absently.

“ _They should have sent food,”_ his familiar hissed in response.

\--

“Mass murderer Sirius Black…” filtered in from the family room as Harry cleaned up after the family’s lunch. He paid it no mind. He hummed a little as he worked, nonsense songs Blaise sometimes made to remember incantations. He couldn’t practice magic, but he could think about it. The Dursleys could keep their mass murdering muggles in there, and Harry would be rhyming drivel with ‘scourgify’ in here.

\--

The Dursleys were downstairs, aggressively cleaning for Aunt Marge’s impending arrival. Harry would need to start the meal soon. He had just taken a few moments for himself, first. He wondered if he could bear to ruin the meal with some kind of laxative.

 

He could.

 

Just as Aunt Marge rubbed her disgusting mouth on the nice napkins, her stomach started to shake. She belched loudly, to Petunia Dursley’s shame, and laughed. Just as she finished her second brandy, Dudley Dursley ran off to one of two bathrooms in the house. Petunia, who ate like a particularly dainty mouse, hovered at the door and bore auditory witness to the horrors within.

Vernon, who prided himself on his constitution and work attendance, proceeded to flush heavily. Sweat broke out on his forehead. And finally, just as Marge began her tirade against Harry’s appearance, posture, parents, and general failure to be Dull as a Dursley, she began to… slow down. Stop. She turned white.

Harry’s hands were gripped tight about the pristine dishcloth in his hands, vibrating. He would not lash out. He would hold his temper. These were the Dursleys and being awful was what they did, and he had put laxative in their food and that was what sly little boys do, and justice would come around. He didn’t need to do anything else. He talked himself down even as Marge began to swell, to scare Vernon. But she rushed to the other bathroom, Ripper on her heels. She was sick. She didn’t explode or turn into the worm she was, and Harry congratulated himself on a job well done. Vernon couldn’t prove the fish wasn’t off. He couldn’t summon up the energy to do much, didn’t accompany a pale Marge to the station, and didn’t protest when Harry practically used his hand to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip.

Harry was actually quite proud of himself for the whole thing. The next day Aunt Petunia set him to weed the garden, and he didn’t even feel like complaining.

\--

When he was done weeding, Harry often liked to lie in the shade. Sometimes Seshhe joined him.

_“I don’t think you’re getting any bigger,”_ Harry observed idly.

_“Mmm, it’s heavy here. No magic in the air.”_

_“Are you hungry?”_

_“No… just heavy. Like… hibernation.”_

“ _Soon we’ll be back at Hogwarts. Maybe you will grow again.”_

_“Not too big…?”_ The snake raised up. Harry heard it too. Something large was coming up on them. Harry opened his eyes quickly, but didn’t move. Seshhe hid without a command, sliding up against his waist, ready to move. It wouldn’t be good to let the Dursleys or the neighbors see him. But given a few minutes, the sound didn’t reappear. Harry was feeling a bit of déjà vu, something about wide eyes in the bushes, but he pushed himself up into a crouch anyway. He looked towards the source of the sound, and saw nothing. But Seshhe had heard it too…

It wasn’t as if Petunia’s suburban-chic garden left much space to hide. If one of Dudley’s friends had been sneaking up on him, the only place they could have disappeared to was around the side of the house.

When Harry shot around the side, however, he didn’t find a bully. Just a dog.

It was huge, and black, and everything Petunia Dursley would hate. It also looked quite surprised, like it had been startled in the act of running away.

“Hey,” Harry intoned softly, making himself smaller almost instantly. “Pretty thing, hello there,” he coaxed it. Seshhe was grumbling against his stomach, but he would live. Dogs and snakes could be friends. Maybe.

On further scrutiny, the dog wasn’t pretty at all. It was packed with mud around its paws, missing bits of fur, and skinny. Harry slowed down. He didn’t see a collar. Maybe it had rabies. Harry shook himself out of the thought and sweet-talked the dog again. “Do you want some water?” Harry reached along the wall behind him, not looking away from the dog, and turned on the hose. Soft ears perked up, and it lost a little of the tension in its back legs. “I’ll just leave it here for you,” he narrated, “and you can come get a drink.” He backed away, and the dog indeed came closer to drink, eyes on him.

“Where are you from, then? Nowhere around here, I hope. Mrs. Figg would throw a fit if you were anywhere near her cats.” The dog’s ears flicked at his voice, but the dog kept drinking. “Do you have a name?” But the dog’s head raised, looking behind it, and then it was off at a staggering lope, dashing  across the street to disappear in the neighborhood.

“Bye, then,” Harry sighed, turning off the hose again.

“ _Dogs,”_ Seshhe wriggled unhappily.

“ _Just the one,”_ he protested in return. “ _It needs help.”_

Sure as anything, the dog showed up the a few days later, while Harry was taking a moment in the back garden. The Dursleys were out avoiding him, and that suited Harry just fine.

“Hello again,” Harry beamed. The dog sat, still staring at him. “I didn’t expect to see you, to be honest,” Harry kept up talking, moving slowly to the back door of the house. “But I did keep some of the lunchmeat back, if you could just stay there for… one… minute,” he kept talking as he flipped through the fridge. The Dursleys would never miss it. They had stopped measuring how much food disappeared since Dudley started his second year.

He brandished the packet of questionable meat at the dog triumphantly. The dog’s tail thumped once, tiredly. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do any tricks,” he offered, getting closer to the dog’s level, “but I’m only giving you one piece at a time so you don’t choke.” He proceeded to do so, monitoring how the dog scarfed down each slice without chewing. “Probably not good, but I know that feeling. You just go ahead and eat,” he continued, laying out the rest of the lunchmeat. “I wish I had more.” The dog finished with a whuffing sound and approached quickly, to which Harry straightened and threw out a hand. “Woah!”

The dog stilled. Some training, then, or just good instincts. “Sorry, buddy. You’re almost as big as me, and you could have any sort of issue under that fur. How about a bath?” He was side-eyed for his trouble. “That mud can’t feel good,” he wheedled, unconcerned at talking to a dog. He talked to snakes all the time. “All you have to do is stand still for the hose, and I’ll dry you off, okay,” He paused. What’s a good name for a dog? “Blackie?” Not his best moment. The dog’s ears set back, but he didn’t growl or snap. “I’m going to get the stuff, and maybe something else from the fridge, and if you’re here when I get back we’ll have a wash, alright?” The dog sat again. Harry nodded decisively and scurried upstairs, excited.

But he got back outside, sausage links and shampoo in hand, and the dog was gone. Harry thought he would just wait until it turned up again, but that wasn’t to be.

\--

“Get the door, boy!” Vernon thundered, firmly ensconced in his ‘dinner’ position in front of the TV.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied to the couch-bound family. He opened the door to a familiar face. “Mr. Weasley,” he straightened, “What brings you here?”

“Well, I’m here for you, Harry. Bit of a private thing, you understand, need to have a word with the extended family, be just a moment,” and Harry was left with Dudley in the living room as Arthur took the Dursley adults into the kitchen.

“What’s one of your lot doing here,” Dudley asked, ruining Harry’s attempts to eavesdrop. “Daddy says they aren’t welcome, need to stop showing their ruddy faces,” but the boy was interrupted by his mum, sweeping him up as much as she could with the mass discrepancy, taking him out to the car.

“Get him out of my house this instant,” Vernon was shaking, “and don’t bring him back until he’s not bringing hell down on my family,” he spat. He then trundled out to the car, which Harry heard speed down the street.

“Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, befuddled. “What on earth was that about?”

“I’m to take you to Diagon Alley, Harry, isn’t that wonderful?” Arthur Weasley’s smile was decidedly forced, but Harry wouldn’t argue. Seshhe was more than happy to help him pack, setting gentle fang-marks into various things he had left around the room, throwing it all into his trunk before curling around his shoulders.

“Actually, sir, there’s the problem of my other school things, like my wand. And there’s this dog I’ve been feeding, if I could…”

“What about your things, Harry?” Arthur was staring out the still-open front door, wand in hand.

“Well, they’re locked in the cupboard,” Harry said flatly.

“Oh,” Arthur spelled the door open with a frown, and Harry was reunited with his wand. It felt like a fraction of home, and soon Hogwarts would be along to fill a fraction of the rest.

“Where’s Ron and Percy and the twins? Are they here too? How was Egypt?”

“Waiting for us at the Leaky,” he communicated tersely. “We’re actually going to Apparate now, Harry, and it’s not a very good feeling. Take a deep breath,” and then they were off, spinning, sick with pressure and motion. Harry, in fact, did not feel very good about it. Mr. Weasley was right.

But they were there, in the floo bay of the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry took a deep breath of the mildew, magical air. Tea and sick and poorly-mopped floors. He let out his breath in a cough.

“Best you go meet with Ron upstairs, hm? I’ll get your room straightened out, and tomorrow we’ll all go into Diagon together. I think, right now, an early night is in order for the lot of us.” He dragged a hand down his face and smiled wearily.

Harry obeyed, wondering what on earth could have gotten Mr. Weasley so worn down. And just after a holiday, too.

\--

As soon as he crested the stairs carrying his trunk, He was bowled over by Hermione. “Careful, baby on board,” he joked, patting his familiar.

“What?” She frowned. “Oh, hello, Harry’s snake. Hello, Harry! We were so worried about you.”

“Why? Not that the Dursleys’ is any fun, but they’re terrified of Seshhe, so…”

“Nevermind that, Harry,” Ron squeezed in to clap him on the shoulder, “We’ve got a whole week to roam about here before term starts, and you haven’t ever been to the best parts of Diagon Alley.” Ron was in pajama pants and a bright, bright orange Chudley Cannons shirt. He looked very tan, the kind that mellows out after he’d burned a few times.

“We haven’t even got our books, Ron.” She didn’t look directly at him, a choice Harry emulated. He thought his eyes might start burning. Or stage a rebellion.

“And we will get them, but we’ve also got to take Harry by Fortescue’s and Quality Quidditch Supplies and into Magical Menagerie,” at which Seshhe lifted his triangular head from Harry’s collar, “to get Scabbers checked out.”

“Something wrong with Scabbers?” Harry asked.

“I think he picked something up in Egypt,” Ron explained. “Bits of fur missing, not eating.”

“Alright, you three,” Arthur Weasley came up behind Harry. “Off to bed. Really, Ron, I thought you were asleep ages ago. And you, too, Miss Granger.”

“I was just catching up on…”

“Sleep. All of you.” Ron and Hermione cast Harry significant glances and scurried off. “You too, Harry. You’re right here.” He showed Harry to the room. Harry thought he would hear the last door in the hall open, but instead heard what could only be Mr. Weasley heading back downstairs. He put his trunk in the corner of the room and rummaged around for his invisibility cloak.

It was underneath the Monster Book of Monsters. Of course. The book was still bound shut, but it grumbled at his fingers, frustrated. He pulled the shimmering fabric free and wrapped it around himself in one motion.

“ _Up for a bit of sneaking?”_ Harry asked his familiar. He got smug silence. “ _Me too.”_

“Psst,” he called outside Ron’s room. He didn’t have to wait a minute before Hermione was out of the one across the hall, peering around for him. He stuck a foot out from under the invisibility cloak, and she joined him.

“Are we going to eavesdrop?” she asked sternly.

“Of course we are. If Ron would just come out.” She ushered him over and they listened at the door. She rolled her eyes.

“He’s snoring to wake the dead,” she whispered. “There’s no way he’s in. Well? Are we going or not?”

He gestured forward, and she took his arm to keep them together under the cloak. At the top of the stairwell, they paused. They couldn’t see anyone, but Arthur Weasley’s voice reached them.

 

“…you were about to just leave him there with those muggles, they couldn’t possibly protect him. He said, Albus, he said he had been feeding a dog,”

“That’s quite enough, Arthur,” Dumbledore’s familiar voice interrupted. He continued softly, “Harry is safe now.  Soon he will be back at Hogwarts, and I trust our Minister of Magic will soon have the guilty personage in custody.”

The only following sounds were sighs and the clink of a spoon against a teacup. Hermione pulled him away from the railing before they could get caught, and shrugged when he pulled off the cloak.

“I couldn’t follow much,” she muttered to him, “just that I think he pulled us out of Muggle homes because of Sirius Black.”

“He’s a wizard?” She nodded, then straightened when she heard footsteps. Harry scurried back to his own room, and fell asleep wondering about what Black could be targeting muggleborn students for.

\--

Despite saying he would go with them, Mr. Weasley left a note with Tom the innkeeper saying that he had other business, and that they should go into Diagon with the twins.

Shrugging over breakfast, Ron talked with his mouth full, “Ministry stuff,” he chewed. “Barely one day back from Egypt, and he goes to work, comes back-” he started to cough.

“Chew with your mouth closed,” the twins mimicked Mrs. Weasley. Hermione jumped a little, spinning to glare at them.

“Hullo, Fred, George. Are Percy and Ginny with you, too?”

“Nah, they went out early this morning. Perce’s got a stomach bug, so they’re getting their school stuff fast and it’s back home for them. We’re staying a few to watch you lot.”

“Dad came back after one day of work raving to mom about you, Harry,” Fred or George continued, snagging a piece of bacon from Ron’s plate. The younger couldn’t do anything about it while gasping for breath, his eyes watering wrathfully at the twin in question. “Said you were in danger.” He chewed slowly, staring at Ron.

“Sirius Black,” the other said. He reached over Hermione’s head to snag a paper right out of the hands of a witch, winking at her scowl. Waving a hand, the witch turned to the wizard sitting next to her and resumed reading. The headline was suitably frightening, but the photo put it to shame. The man looked deranged, smudged with black, screaming and pulling at his restraints.

“That’s Black?” Harry asked, hushed. “Even the muggles know about him. Said he was a murderer.”

“Follower of You-Know-Who. Killed a bunch of muggles and one wizard.”

Harry sighed, setting his cheek down on the doubtlessly disgusting table. “Of course, and he would be after me,”

“Since you killed off his old master,” Fred nodded sagely.

“Or maybe to ask you to be his new master,” George clasped his fingers under his chin and blinked down at Harry. “Best start collecting underlings early,”

“And maybe try for higher quality. Not you, Hermione,” he added, “just our idiot of a little brother,” he finally pounded Ron on the back. Ron coughed one final time and breathed.

“You two are such gits. I should tell Mum.”

“You won’t,” the twins chimed in unison, sharing a significant look. “We learned a wonderful spell last year, didn’t we, George,”

“We did, Fred, what was it called?”

“Something something _horde of spiders_ something…” Ron blanched and shut up, pushing away from the table.

“I think it’s time to go buy some things, isn’t it?” Hermione nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, we just had to wait for you lot.”

The five of them tapped out a familiar sequence on the bricks and were off to Diagon Alley. The air smelled better, the people looked happier and the people smelled better. They didn’t make it to the book store that day, no matter their intent. They were too busy getting distracted by broomsticks and ice cream, with one diversion of the twins getting into trouble. By the time they returned to the Leaky Cauldron they were exhausted and laughing.

That didn’t mean Harry missed how Mr. Weasley relaxed when they walked in.

\--

Harry would say that their visit to the pet shop the following morning went poorly.

 It started off fine. Penny Mellontow greeted Harry at the door with a smile. She took one look at Seshhe and cooed over his growth.

“Mainly on magic, is he? Doesn’t want to get much bigger, then?” At his head shake, she nodded with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t suppose you would have a word with one of my larger varieties.” It wasn’t really a question, and Harry didn’t really want to insult the diminutive witch. She led him back to the snake tanks, and Harry was glad to see they weren’t quite so far tucked away as they used to be.

“Ah, I take it there’s more of a market for snakes?” Her eyes twinkled.

“Maybe a bit ahead of the curve on my part, but I heard a certain famous wizard has a snake familiar,” she nudged him in the ribs with one bony elbow, “and there are always those who want in on a fad.”

“I hope they go to good homes,” Harry frowned. He didn’t like the idea of people picking a pet based on changing fashions.

“Don’t doubt me, young Potter. I’ve been at this longer than you’ve been toddling around,” she instructed firmly. “Now, this first yearling isn’t eating anything I give him- I’ve tried live, flash frozen, charmed, dazed, fruit, vegetables, magic. Nothing!”

Harry talked to the snake in question, half his attention going to the ruckus at the front of the store. Likely the twins. At some point Miss Mellontow wandered off to deal with them. After Harry made the mistake of calling the snake a boa instead of an anaconda, he was thoroughly instructed in precisely how fish eggs tasted. Harry returned to the front a bit greener than before.

He let Miss Mellontow know about the snake’s preferred diet, and her eyes lit up. She scurried off to procure the strange anaconda some food, leaving her assistant in charge. He was a tall irritated looking fellow, though that might have had something to do with the twins standing in the corner whistling.

The shop assistant told Ron that Scabbers was dying and there wasn’t much for it, since he wasn’t magical and all. Hermione adopted a murderous cat, the twins laughed the whole way down the street, and Ron was a mix of infuriated and depressed.

\--

When Malfoy turned up the next day it was to three grumpy faces. In a rare stroke of consideration his father was absent. His mother accompanied him instead. The resemblance was uncanny; Harry had thought Draco looked like his father, but Mrs. Malfoy had the same look. Like something incredibly smelly had thrown itself at her feet. By this point, Harry was Slytherin indoctrinated enough to find it endearing instead of annoying. Like Hermione’s new cat, with the squished face.

“What’s gotten into the three of you?” Draco announced himself. Mrs. Malfoy lingered by the door, looking around the room judgmentally. “Bad news? More giant snakes?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked between Ron and Hermione, then back up.

“Ah. Trouble in the pride.” Crookshanks chose that moment to leap into Hermione’s lap. Didn’t they have rules about pets in a dining establishment? Harry guessed wizards were more flexible with the whole familiar thing. Still, Crookshanks had a lot of hair.

Ron shot Hermione and her pet a glare before splitting, muttering something about meeting up with Dean and Thomas. Hermione hid her hurt in Crookshanks’ fur.

“They’ve had a bit of a fight,” Harry muttered to Draco. “Over their pets.”

“I don’t remember Weasley’s- rat, was it? But that looks like a familiar to me.” He gestured to the furry orange monstrosity. Crookshanks growled in response. Harry didn’t even know that was a sound cats could make. “Well, if he’s off in a huff I suppose it will just be the four of us.”

“Ah, your mum’s following? Mr. Weasley said the twins had their own thing, and with Percy and Ginny still at the Burrow, I thought it might be the three of us.” Honestly, he had been hoping for a bit of room to breathe.

Draco, who had been studying Crookshanks, turned to him incredulously. “Are you daft, Potter? With Black on the loose?”

“Look,” Harry shrugged, “I get that he’s after me, or something. But in the middle of Diagon Alley? In broad daylight? I’m perfectly safe!”

“Excuse me if some of us have a bit more self-preservation. I promise my mother isn’t likely to brawl in the middle of the street.” Harry looked at Hermione, confused at the reference, but she was already bringing out her list of books. It had a few more on it than Harry’s.

“Mother, allow me to introduce Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Weasley’s with some of his house mates.” Mrs. Malfoy nodded slightly, just one sharp movement down, and didn’t say anything. Hermione looked nervous. “Let’s go, then,” Draco split the awkward silence, and his mother led the way into Diagon.

\--

The books were well organized, lined up in the front of Flourish and Blotts for the new school year. Harry indulged a small jab of pleasure walking past the sections for first and second years. He was allowed a bit of pride in surviving, he thought. There was a cage for the Monster Book of Monsters, all torn fur and gleaming letters. Mrs. Malfoy had disappeared into the back of the shop long before the disgruntled shopkeeper had to open it.

Luckily, Harry already had that. Standard spells, check. Magical Herbs and Fungi, check. Transfiguration, potions, history… Essential Defense looked much better than last year’s stack of Lockhart books, at least. The two Ancient Runes books looked interesting, too.

“Divination book next,” Hermione mumbled, accompanied by an aggressive eye-roll. “Nonsense.”

“Something you finally don’t want to learn?” She sighed.

“I did want to learn it. Telling the future, that’s… well, magical. But it’s all rubbish. I read several…” and Harry turned on his selective hearing. He busied himself looking for ‘Unfogging the Future,’ since Hermione was distracted, and was sidetracked by a whole section featuring a familiar shape.

“What’s with all the black dogs?” He asked, laughing.

“Omen of death,” she interrupted her tirade. “One of the few things most of the wizarding world agrees on, and it’s just as silly as the rest of them. I mean, sunshine is happy, that makes sense. I could understand a crow, like Muggles use, because they feed on the dead sometimes, but a dog?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, shaking off the superstition. “I’ve met one just like that, and it liked lunchmeat. Not very ominous.” He considered the rows of books carefully.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t take Runes with us,” Draco wandered up.

“Gryffindor Runes is with Hufflepuff, but I am taking Runes.”

“Then you’re not taking Magical Creatures?” Harry blinked at her.

“Oh, no, I am. See?” She held out her book list. It wasn’t just longer than Harry’s, it was every book.

“You can’t possibly take all these classes, Granger.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will work out,” Hermione called “Aha!” as she found Unfogging the Future. “Silly thing. Are you two all done, then?”

Draco still had to pick up the core books from the front, then they paid and headed out. At some point the silvery specter of Draco’s mum joined them, though Harry couldn’t have said when.

\--

Draco showed the next couple of days, too, accompanied by his silent judgmental mother. While Ron got over himself they went to all the places he would hate, then when he had succeeded they got ice cream and stalked around Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione brought a book to hide her nose in when Ron got too uppity, and the system worked. When Diagon Alley lost its charm for them, they sat around the Leaky and played exploding snap, gobstones, and wizards’ chess. Ron beat Malfoy four times out of five and preened about it. Hermione helped them with the last of their school work.

It only took one day of that sitting around to drive Harry crazy. Diagon Alley would never cease to be amazing to him, no matter how long he spent there. He wanted to try the rest of Fortescue’s ninety-nine flavors. He wanted to ogle the Firebolt again. He wanted to figure out just what that pooling golden substance had been in the potion shop. He really wanted, more than anything, to have some time to himself.

But no matter how he pushed, his three friends sat stubbornly. Fine, he thought. He would just go on his own. But Mrs. Malfoy was watching, and Mr. Weasley was reading by the fire, glancing over every once in a while. He would need the cloak. It was still midday- he could never convince them he was going for a nap. He would have to sneak upstairs, then sneak out. His hair raised with the challenge, and he wiggled his toes.

“Right back,” he said in a carefully neutral voice. “Getting my runes textbook.” Hermione glanced up at him half- approving and went back to her own book, while the other two ignored him. Perfect.

Harry trotted up the stairs and to his room, where he set said textbook on the bed and drew out his invisibility cloak. It settled familiarly on his shoulders. He tiptoed back down the stairs and to the portal, where he looked around at everyone not paying attention before he removed the cloak and went through. Monotony, he thought to himself, will make even the most devoted guard complacent.

Not nearly complacent enough for his taste, however. He hardly got halfway down the lane before Mr. Weasley had him by the elbow. Harry didn’t put up a fight- didn’t see the point of it- but let his anger grow as Arthur berated him.

“Harry, you can’t just wander off,” Arthur tried to keep his tone light. After all, it wasn’t like he had told Harry himself there was a murderer after him. It wouldn’t do to have Harry suspicious of his round-the-clock guard. Harry didn’t respond. When Arthur let go of him, safely behind the portal to the Leaky, Harry kept walking past his silent friends upstairs to his room.

“Harry,” Arthur stage-whispered after him, hurrying to keep up. “I know it’s hard to understand, but we need to stick together, it’s not safe.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, door thrown open, and spun to look Mr. Weasley in the eyes. “Where am I safe, then, if not in broad daylight, the center of a prominent shopping area, surrounded by grown witches and wizards? How would Black manage to wind his way through all of that to kill me?”

“We only wanted to protect you,” Arthur appeased helplessly.

“It’s not your _job_ to protect me! I can’t wait to get on that train,” Harry fumed, “so I can get to Hogwarts, where I might be able to go to the bloody bathroom without being _followed._ ” He closed the door in Mr. Weasley’s face and tried hard not to feel like a child throwing a tantrum. It might have been a futile pursuit, but he did make headway into his runes text.

\--

It was impossible for the platform to be sullenly silent- there was too much to do, for one, and far too many people surrounding them. Harry gave it a go, anyway. He stayed sullen through Mrs. Weasley’s bone-crushing hug, though it tested him. He was brought out of it by none other than Ginny, earnestly asking him all about how Diagon was.

“What did you and Percy get up to? I heard he was ill.” Her eyes darted to her mother, then rolled.

“Dad didn’t want me around too much,” she stated boldly, ignoring Mrs. Weasley’s stern look. “Since you’re being hunted, and all. Ron and the twins were apparently expendable, but Perce took me home right after we had all our things. Did you get to see the new Firebolt?” She bounced a little on her heels. “I didn’t even get to go in Quality Quidditch, Percy dragged me from store to store so fast.”

Of course Harry had to describe every feature, and that dragged the rest of them in. By the time Harry boarded the train his spirits were much lighter.

Of course, that meant that the whole train was full, and they couldn’t find Malfoy anywhere. Likely he was holed up somewhere with Zabini and Nott, but that didn’t help them when the train started to move. They had to squeeze into one with some old guy.

“Ginny, stop pushing,” Ron grumbled. Crookshanks was clawing up Hermione’s jumper, to her dismay. Harry settled in the seat near the door when everyone finally sat down. “Who’s he?” Ginny gestured towards the man, who appeared dead to the world.

“Lupin,” Hermione pointed at his case.

“Huh,” Harry wondered, “I don’t think I’ve seen an adult on the train other than the trolley lady.”

“I think he’s the new Defense professor,” Hermione squinted at him. “Looks a little like it, you know?” Harry did know. The scars across his face made him look a bit dangerous, though he was drooling on himself.

“Should let him sleep, then.” They passed the time talking about their classes, and Hogsmeade, and Harry wondered out loud whether they would even let him go. Permission or no permission, if they watched him in Diagon they would want him watched at school. Ginny supposed they could sneak him out and Hermione started quoting school rules and facts about the village. They were just putting together a contingency plan to get past Filch when the train’s brakes came on and the lights turned off.

“Ron?” Ginny’s voice broke the stunned silence.

“I don’t know, maybe they had engine trouble?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t think magical trains get engine trouble,” Harry grumbled, opening the car door. It wasn’t any lighter out there, and Harry sat right back down. With the door open, though, he could hear other students. A voice he thought might have been Bulstrode’s was ever more stridently demanding to know what was going on.

The temperature dropped, and Millicent’s yowling slowly dropped away. There was a moment, maybe two, where Harry just stared at his friends and the icy slap of rain on the window. Even the drops seemed to slow, and the moments stretched. In the next, Harry heard a terrible wailing start up, a heart-wrenching call for help. It was calling his name, and he tried to stand up to go. Whatever that was, he had to follow it. But his legs wouldn’t obey. He collapsed half-into the hall, the edges of some black filament teasing the edge of his vision…

 

He woke with a gasp, drawing no air. It felt like all of the breath in his body had left at once, and he gripped at his stomach, panicking, before a sure hand dropped to his shoulder and he settled back to himself. The train was in motion, the lights were up.

“Eat this,” the owner of the hand commanded. Harry ate without thinking, hardly chewing. “Let it sit on your tongue this time.” Harry looked up and saw the scarred man, the one who had been drooling on himself. He looked very serious now.

“Er,” Harry chewed lamely. “You always carry chocolate with you?” He asked, when he caught his breath.

“Oh, yes. Not always for dementors. I find that the worst news can be tackled with a bit of time and chocolate. And friends, of course. I believe I should check on the other students, if you’re fine Harry.”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” For some definition. He levered himself up a bit farther, settling with his back to his seat. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were all shades of pale, sitting quiet and drained. The man left, stopping in the hall every few cars to check on the students inside.

 

“Did we tell him your name?” Hermione finally spoke, her voice wavering. Harry noticed that each of them gripped slowly melting pieces of chocolate.

“Famous Harry Potter, remember,” Ginny replied. The normalcy calmed them, until Hermione hiccupped out a nervous giggle.

“What happened,” Harry mumbled, still propped up against the seat, his backside still on the floor. He didn’t trust himself to stand yet. “Is everyone ok?”

Hermione gathered up Crookshanks. “Yes. Shaken up a bit, but…”

“None of us collapsed like you,” Ginny looked away. “But it was really bad. All I could think about was-” she stopped mid-sentence.

“Professor drove it away, whatever it was,” Hermione filled the quiet, not unkindly. “Drew his wand on it and cast something.” Hermione must have been shaken, to be so unspecific.

“It?”

“It was like a blob of darkness,” Ron gestured in the air, his hand like a jellyfish. “But hard to look at. It looked dead.”

“A dementor. Guard of Azkaban,” the professor returned. “Eat those,” he reminded. “Here, you too, Harry. Good for you, in this case.” Harry wondered just how much chocolate this man had on his person at any given point, and if he would have to restock soon. “Dementors drain happiness, to make a complicated thing simple. They feed on good memories, and leave darkness behind.”

This revelation cast a hush over the train car as each of them looked away from the others. They didn’t want to talk about what made them particularly unhappy, least of all in front of the man who would be their new professor. Still, it wasn’t like Harry could hide his unhappiness from the world. He was famous for it.

He leaned forward, his hands on the floor. “Are they a magical creature? Are they the only guards of Azkaban? Were they here because of Sirius Black?”

“Yes, yes, and most probably,” Lupin answered quickly, then expanded. Harry couldn’t possibly have satisfied his sense of weakness over the few minutes the train took to arrive, but he learned a fair bit. Not least was the growing idea that the man who carried a case full of chocolate with him everywhere would be a very good professor.

\--

Hogwarts itself was near anticlimactic. The spires and turns of it would always take Harry’s breath away, but he was having trouble getting that back in the first place.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron goaded, stepping up into a horseless carriage. Harry nodded and turned away from the faraway view of the castle. The carriages had the lot of them through the castle gates in no time, and then they were passing into the Great Hall. A familiar blonde head was looking for Harry, while Ron and Hermione waved goodbye and met friends in their own house. Harry made his way over to Slytherin, keeping his eyes down. People were whispering, but they were always whispering. The laughter was new.

“Did you really pass out on the train, Potter?” Malfoy greeted him.

“Nice to see you too. Hullo Blaise, Theo.”

“Answer the question, would you?” Pansy Parkinson leaned over Blaise’s shoulder. “I’ve got a bet.”

“I’m all right, thanks for asking. Didn’t any of you…? I mean, didn’t you see a dementor?”

Pansy drew back. “Oh, I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve won a galleon off a first year who didn’t know what a soft touch you were, Potter, so thanks.” She shuffled off to the end of the table quickly.

“She’s scared of them, too,” Draco added. “I’m glad you didn’t add any more scars to that tragic face of yours, but really? Fainting?”

“I passed out,” Harry grumbled.

“Let him alone,” Theo scraped his fork over his empty plate. “You felt it, on the train. Turned even paler, if you could imagine,” he turned to Harry. “Looked like he would puke.”

“So did you!”

“Alright, let’s agree that it was a bad experience and leave it at that. When’s Dumbledore giving the speech?” The headmaster was still absent from the head table, though Hagrid waved when Harry looked up. He looked nervous. Harry gave him a little wave back.

Mere moments later, Lupin appeared from the side door and walked over to the empty seat. Dumbledore followed him and, instead of sitting, shuffled his slipper-clad feet to the head of the hall.

“Welcome back, students! Welcome to those who have not yet been back!” He clapped his hands and the lights above wavered. Ominous clouds were collected on the ceiling. “I’m sure you noticed on the train in that Hogwarts has some… guests this term.” His voice darkened. “I advise every living resident of the castle to steer clear of them, and to not interfere in their business. They are here to protect us, but in the course of their duties they are not inclined to mercy.”

The Hall erupted into murmurs, quickly silenced. “Otherwards, I have a couple of news items to address; our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor! One of my own students, once upon a yesteryear, and very fine, too, Professor Lupin!” The scarred man stood to doubtful applause and bowed perfunctorily before sitting. No great speeches for him. “And I believe our older students will be sad to see our own Professor Kettleburn go, but proud to see his role filled by our gameskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid!” Hagrid then stood with a great grin, beaming around at the hall. He received more applause than Lupin by a fair margin, which Harry understood- Hagrid was well-known to the students, even the first-years.

“Actually, I’m quite hungry. Let’s sing!” With no further words food filled their plates, which led to a great many students singing the school song with full mouths. Harry happily did so as well, if only to savor the look shared by Malfoy and Zabini.

\--

Harry filed out of the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherins, grinning. The feast had done a lot to replenish his spirits. The familiar halls of Hogwarts were comforting until the group approached a familiar message.

On one end of the hall, it still read, ‘Enemies of the Heir, beware.’ At the other end, ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ Harry’s stomach lurched. He felt fierce pride that the second warning was untrue, but his eyes lingered on the first. Enemies of the Heir. He closed his eyes against the burning bright lettering. He would avoid this hallway. He would scrub it from his memory.

“Guess they couldn’t clean it, after all.” Malfoy pushed at his back. “No time to dwell, Potter, I’m tired. Get a move on.” Harry was glad to indulge Draco’s particular brand of care.

He was even gladder to lie down in his own bed, trimmed in green, with no Dursleys to wake up to in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry yawned, earning a bony elbow to the side. He narrowed his eyes at the culprit, but Theo was looking straight ahead. Harry privately thought Theo was fostering some sort of hero-crush on Professor McGonagall. He paid extra attention and always straightened in his chair when he earned one of her rare smiles. Everyone did, if Harry was being honest. She had such high standards it became a challenge to impress her. Kind of like Snape… if Snape ever smiled without looking constipated. Harry snapped back to class when McGonagall’s wand tapped the desk in front of him.

“Mr. Potter. Forgive me if I cut into your daydreams,” she began dryly, “But I wondered if you would share with the class one fact about Animagus.” The class tittered.

“Er…” Harry looked at Theo to his left, who shook his head. Harry should have known he couldn’t break through hero worship. “They turn into animals,” McGonagall inclined her head. That wasn’t going to cut it. “They need to be… um… there’s paperwork involved?” Seemed a safe bet, since there was usually paperwork.

McGonagall shook her head but her beady eyes twinkled. “One point to Slytherin for your lucky guess, Mr. Potter. Do try to make it through the very first class of this term awake. Now, that brings us to the point of Animagus Registration…”

“Nice, Potter. Relying on the inflated system.” Blaise nudged his chair from behind.

“Maybe I was listening,” Harry grumbled back. Harry might encourage his familiar to sneak into Blaise’s bed and scare him.

\--

Evidently, Hagrid was holding class out next to the Forest, and the lesson was great flesh-ripping eagle-headed horse giants. And he asked for _volunteers_ to get close to it.

Harry looked up (and up, and up) at Hagrid. He did not want to approach the Hippogriff. Hagrid must have…? No, he was too busy beaming at the magical creature to notice everyone backing away.

“Scared, Harry?” Ron jabbed him in the back with his foot, leaving a smear of mud. Harry glared over his shoulder and was met with all smiles.

“Alright, Hagrid,” Harry replied, pushing up his sleeves and readjusting his glasses. “Could you, erm, go over the things again?”

“Not to worry, Harry. Er, you haven’t got your snake with you, do you? No? Good! Just get over there,” he pushed heavy-handed, “and give him a bow. Keep eye contact.”

Harry could probably still turn back. But… Buckbeak was actually magnificent. Clean, straight feathers, dappled flanks, enormous. The creature was scary-looking, but… so was the basilisk. And she was just a great snake. So this was just a great eagle-horse mess. Sure. Bow, keep eye contact. Think about how pretty it was, not about how terrifying those great claws were. My, what pretty golden eyes you have, Harry thought furiously. What lovely plumage. To his relief, the hippogriff bowed in return. And Hagrid made him ride it around the yard a bit. He privately thought that Buckbeak was as happy to have Harry off of his back as Harry was to be gone. When class was over, Harry waved goodbye to Hagrid and gave him a thumbs-up. He waved to Buckbeak for good measure, though the creature turned his backside to Harry and trotted along to his herd. Harry shrugged. That seemed about right to him.

\--

The first difference Harry noticed, other than the lack of genuine cheer that usually signaled start of term, was the owls. Though the Slytherin dorms were too far to hear, they were always calling back and forth to each other. After dark, at dinner, the sound could echo all the way down from the Owlrey to the Hall.

The owls did not like the Dementors. They didn't react like the students did, but they avoided the Dementor patrols and hissed at unannounced intruders. There were no comforting hoots that night or any night after, just silence. Harry was grateful for the ever-present pressure of the Black Lake against the windows of his dorm, the soft motions of whatever lived down there.

\--

“Oh, Dumbledore’s got to be over a hundred,” Harry arrived late to breakfast and heard Blaise. He and Theo were discussing the Headmaster.

“Somebody’s got to remember how old he is, right? When’s his birthday?” Draco started rummaging through his bag. “I think I got a chocolate frog of him recently, hold on.”

“Born in 1881,” Ron supplied through a mouthful of potato. He swallowed with difficulty. “So he’s…”

“One hundred and twelve, Ron. Don’t eat with your mouth full,” Hermione supplied absently, serving herself more eggs with one hand while balancing a book open in the other.

‘Don’t eat with your mouth full,’ Ron mimed to the rest of them, and even Blaise cracked a smile.

“Morning everyone,” Harry interrupted the scene. He didn’t want to draw attention to them all getting along, but it put him in a good mood.

“Morning,” they chorused.

“Are you serious, Hermione? Is Dumbledore really one hundred and twelve?”

“Oh, yes,” she confirmed, but didn’t continue.

Draco did instead. “Muggles don’t live as long, but I think we’re in the one-twenties for life expectancy.”

“One thirty-seven,” Herminone corrected. Harry settled into the seat next to her.

 “But then…” Harry’s focus flicked over to Nott. “Theo, your father isn’t that old!” Harry was surprised. “I was thinking in muggle lifetimes, but really…”

Nott shrugged. “It’s possible he has a lot of time left, but not all wizards are like Dumbledore. He hasn’t aged well. Probably from keeping up with me.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Theo. He and your mum took out a ruddy page in the paper when you were born. My parents would talk about it on my birthday, sometimes. Wondered if they ought to have done that for me. You’ll never convince me that you were anything but the best thing that ever happened to that man. Your mum called you a miracle baby, and even as a kid that was sweet enough to make me sick.”

“They were pretty brilliant,” Theo smiled. “Maybe not as spry as the young parents, but they were always so excited when I did something new. Mum broke the camera when I did my first accidental magic.”

“That’s right. So no more talk about driving your father to old age. What’s happened to him is… terrible, and if we can help at all let us, but I’m more concerned about you.” Nott didn’t know what to do with that, so he just ducked his head and shoveled breakfast into his mouth.

“Oh Blaise, you’re so caring. Is this how you talk to girls?” Harry fluttered his eyelashes heavily.

“Piss off, Potter. See if I ever try to be a good friend to you.” Theodore smiled, nostalgic mood erased, and they headed off to double Potions class together.

\--

They had double potions with Gryffindor, which was always a lesson in patience. Snape got so wrapped up in torturing the Griffindors he forgot to be a good teacher, or any teacher at all.

Neville practically fell to tears under Snape’s onslaught. “Sir,” Harry cried out in alarm, dumping extra shrivelfig into his cauldron with the other hand. “Sir!” He distracted the Professor successfully.

“What is it, Potter?”

“Well, I think I might have…” he dithered. He set into an elaborate story about his own clumsy uselessness, which Snape usually liked. Neville recovered himself and his potion with Hermione’s help, and she sent him a thumbs-up over Snape’s shoulder. “Oh, I know! I just need to…” Harry stirred once the opposite direction, just like it said to in the footnotes of the potion. He had never been more grateful that he kept the habit of reading ahead in Snape’s class. “All fixed, sir, thank you.” He looked up at Snape with a smile carefully crafted not to anger him.

The professor seemed put out when he turned back to see Neville’s potion corrected. “Three points from Slytherin for wasting my time, Mr. Potter. There are other students in this class,” he drawled.

“Harry,” Draco murmured from the other side of the bench, “that was incredibly stupid of you.”

“I do lots of stupid things a day, according to you. I’m surprised you mentioned it.” Harry gave the last couple of stirs to his potion and left it to simmer. The extra shrivelfig made it a bit thicker than he’d like, but it was the right color… sort of.

“Listen,” Draco stopped. With the two potions sizzling and popping between them, it was an awkward silence. “I, uh, heard something.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “About… nevermind, you know, I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay,” Harry drawled. Malfoy being weird was no news.

\--

The Sytherin common room buzzed with news of a recent Sirius Black sighting. Harry was just trying to work on the first Transfiguration assignment. It wasn’t due for a week, but he had time and didn’t want to focus on rumors.

At least, not until Draco slammed a familiar genealogy book down on the desk in front of him. The fire popped in counterpoint. “Malfoy, I wanted to look up obscure genealogical records _last_ year. You weren’t exactly excited about it, if I remember right.”

“That was then, and this is now,” Draco wasn’t joking. “My family.” He flipped to a marked page. Indeed, Draco was there at the bottom of the tree, curling braches framing his name. “My mother.” He pulled his finger up to indicate ‘Narcissa Black.’ “Her cousin was Sirius Black. The family disowned him before he even left Hogwarts.” Having delivered this information, Draco collapsed back in his armchair and awaited judgement.

“Oh.” Harry blinked. “I mean, I could have guessed he was related to someone. All the pureblood families are tied in somehow.” He couldn’t say it didn’t bother him, but the image of cool, collected Narcissa Malfoy related to the deranged Sirius Black in the paper… It didn’t make sense. “I’m related to the sort of Muggles you’d never want to meet. Not mass-murderers, I admit, but it is proof you can’t control that sort of thing.”

“Oh good. I was hoping you’d take it well,” Draco breathed, “because there’s more.” He closed the book. “Follow me.” Harry bundled up his work- he didn’t especially want to discuss the uses of modified wand movement anyway- and followed Draco up to their room. When they were safely inside, Draco continued. “Walburga and Orion Black disowned Sirius, their eldest son, due to his…” Draco hesitated. “By my mother’s account, he hated everything his own family stood for. Purity, tradition. Sirius hated it. Had a motorbike he fixed to fly.”

“Draco, just get to the point. You’re talking like this has something to do with me, so just tell me.” He settled onto his bed. “ _Sesshe?”_ The snake appeared from under his bed, weaving sluggishly up Harry’s back where it was warm.

“ _Discussing the black-hunter?”_ Harry nodded, and the familiar settled with his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Focus, Potter. This is important. Sirius Black was a Gryffindor. He was in your mum and dad’s year.” Seshhe flicked his tongue at Harry’s disquiet.

“He knew them,” Harry frowned. It was one thing to go after Voldemort’s supposed killer, but to murder the son of people you had known, gone to school with… how did someone fall that far?

Draco nodded. “Yeah. Listen, once I tell you this, you can’t go off looking for Black.” Harry tipped his head back. There was more. Of course there was. Nothing was ever simple.

“I thought I told you to just say whatever it is you came to tell me. Out with it.”

“Black was the one who told the Dark Lord where your parents were hiding.” The words were numbing, but Harry had questions.

“How do you know?” He asked intensely, leaning forward.

“My mother. My father.” He looked away. “Father talked about it. Said Black would be coming for you to finish the set.”

“And your mum came to Diagon to watch over us.” Harry stood, hefting his snake with him, to pace. Seshhe curled tighter obligingly.

“And wasn’t that a delightful week of silent dinners for the Malfoy family,” he sneered, but quickly quieted. “Harry?” he pressed meekly.

“I’m thinking,” Harry replied.

“I didn’t tell you so you could think,” returned a more familiar Malfoy, sure of himself. “Just so you’d be ready. I know you, but you can’t go after Black. That would be worse than stupid, it’d be suicidal. He’s a fully-trained wizard, not to mention a mass-murderer and probably seven kinds of insane from being locked away in Azkaban.”

“He’s not just after me for Voldemort,” Draco choked at the name, but Harry breezed past. “It’s more personal than just his overlord. He sent his master into the house that killed him.” Harry frowned. “Black’s getting closer to Hogwarts. He’s gotten past the Dementors before.”

“You think he won’t stop?”

“No. I think he’s going to get in eventually.” Harry looked around suddenly, breaking his pace. “Is it even safe to have other people sleeping in the same room as me? What if Black comes after me here? I need…” Harry trailed off, but he had just gotten a wonderful idea. Really, a terrible idea, but… wonderful. His eyes lit up.

“Honestly, I expected this to go much worse,” Draco muttered. “I had Blaise and Theo clear out for a huge temper tantrum.”

“You think I’m not mad? I’m furious.” If Sirius Black hadn’t told Voldemort where his parents hid… Harry had gone to the Dursleys because of that. Harry might have been raised in a real wizarding house, where he could be surrounded by magic every day. Where he wasn’t tolerated at best. His parents would be alive.

Draco nodded. “I might think less of you if you weren’t,” he replied honestly.

“But we’re Slytherins, aren’t we?” Harry cooed in English to his familiar. “And Slytherins always work best with a plan and a little bit of time. If he wants to kill me, he’s got to get past all of Hogwarts. After that? I’d like to see him try. I really look forward to it.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound completely mad. And a bit frightening.” Harry planted himself back on his bed as his thoughts were settling into a plan. He just had to wait a few days, until he wasn’t watched quite as closely, then take out the cloak again…

\--

 

Breakfast saw the Gryffindors sitting with Draco again, joined by Pansy and Daphne Greengrass. Hermione was dominating the conversation, in contrast to the previous day.

“Don’t you think Ancient Runes is brilliant? Oh, of course, Slytherin has that today. I thought about maybe taking notes with runes, but I’m not much of an artist, they get mixed up. Did you know your scar actually forms ‘sowilo’? It’s a rune meaning ‘sun.’ It has the underlying meaning of success, and wholeness, confidence and guidance.”

“Seriously, mate, you’ve got a scar that says ‘sunshine’ on your forehead?” Ron giggled. Harry combed his hair down nervously. It changed nothing.

“Can we not talk about my face anymore? Malfoy was bugging me all morning about my hair, and then Zabini was mucking about with my glasses. Though, I can see much better now. Don’t tell him.”

“Anyway, back to Ancient Runes.” Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, but knew better than to interrupt her. “A fascinating example is the rune of three, the Runespoor.”

“The snake?”

“Yes. It has three heads, one for planning, one for dreaming, and one for judgement.”

“Like you three,” Harry pointed out with a smile.

“I call judgement,” interrupted Malfoy.

“As I was saying!” Hermione went on, “Three is among the most magical of numbers, along with seven,”

“Hermione,” Ron whined. “I don’t need to know this. I can’t even remember the last thing Binns talked about, let alone a class I’m not taking.”

“Fine!” She closed her book. “I’ll go find someone in my class to talk to,” stomping away.

Ron took another bite of his sandwich, chewed slowly, then swallowed. “You think she meant, like, in her Ancient Runes class, or was she insulting me?”

Pansy drawled in response, “If you have to ask, Ronald…” Daphne stifled her laugh well.

 

Study of Ancient Runes was taught by Bathsheda Babbling. Babbling was a little witch, even shorter than Harry. She began class by bouncing up the step to the front of the class three minutes late and jumping in.

“I thought we would start right at the beginning. Numbers! The original language, the prime discussion. Each number, portrayed in runes, is shown in the shape of a magical creature.” Her wand snapped to the board in a decisive motion, the flexible wood giving a startling ‘thwack.’ “Zero! Portrayed by the demiguise, invisible and mysterious. Zero; nothing, the very absence remarkable.”

“One! Any guesses? What magical creature might represent one? No? The unicorn, of course! Solitary and lone, individual. Purity and strength. Two… the graphorn. The graphorn is in possession of intensely durable skin and two very valuable horns, prized mostly for…?” She trailed off, and a Ravenclaw girl raised her hand.

“Potion-making, namely poison antidotes. It’s exceedingly rare, and graphorns are currently under poaching protection by the Ministry of Magic.” That earned her a grin and five points for Ravenclaw.

Professor Babbling smiled right at Harry. “The rune for ‘three’ is that of the runespoor. Can anyone tell me what that is? Mr. Potter?” Harry quickly called to mind Hermione’s breakfast lecture.

“A serpent with three heads.”

“Yes. Five to Slytherin. One a planner, one a dreamer, and one an evaluator.” She turned to the board and gestured with her wand, showing a three-branched tree with a little squiggle. Harry supposed it sort of looked like a three-headed snake. “Three is considered a magically balanced number. Not as prevalent in wizard lore as seven, but known to be significant.” They continued through the runes for numbers and had just begun discussing how to interpret the textbook when their time for class was up. “I expect every one of you to read over the numerical runes! Remember them! Alright, off with you, then.”

As he filed out with everyone else, Harry still felt like his head was trying to think in an entirely new way; each rune meant something, but could mean something entirely different based on the runes around it. He was beginning to think he should have taken Divination instead.

\--

“Professor,” Pansy raised her hand. “Is it true we’ll face a boggart today? Since the Griffindors got to last class.” The whole room hushed as they waited for his answer, which came in the form of a smile. They filed after him out of the classroom.

“It’s been a bit of trouble finding four, I admit,” he narrated as they walked, “but I couldn’t well only show one class the boggart. Luckily it seems the school’s had a bit of an infestation, if you just go looking. Doubtless you’ve all heard a little from the Griffindors?”

“It shows you what you’re most afraid of,” Blaise answered.

Professor Lupin nodded. “It peers into your mind and selects only your deepest and most profound fear. What does this tell us about the boggart’s nature, and defenses against it?”

“That means boggarts use a type of telepathy, which an accomplished witch or wizard might be able to block out,” Pansy put forth intensely.

“Very good, Miss Parkinson.” He opened the little door to a closet, which housed one sad cabinet. It rocked unsteadily. “Now, I would have rather done this in a classroom or enclosed space and not in the hall, but it’s dangerous to move a boggart-infested object without precautions.” He then walked them through the incantation.

“Do I have any volunteers to be first?” Harry went to raise his hand when he thought of his experience on the train. Did he really want the other Slytherins to see that? The rest of his classmates seemed to have the same idea. Who would show a room of snakes their greatest weakness?

Theo stepped forward in the end. Lupin smiled at him and coached him through the process again, then waved his wand and opened the cupboard. What unfolded from the small space was a wizened old man, teetering in his shoes. He looked absently into the distance. From behind his back he pulled a wand, which he turned toward his own belly as slow as if he was underwater.

“Riddikulus!” Theo shouted, and the old man donned belled shoes, hands on his hips, hopping up and down. Nobody laughed, but Lupin sent forward Malfoy next.

His boggart was clothed in all black, with the Lucius Malfoy sneer and hair, but slightly off. Whoever it was, it looked angry. “Riddikulus!” and it was fighting that hair, growing so quickly it tangled in his hands as he flailed about and ended up on the floor. Harry laughed especially hard to see that, as did Lupin.

“Riddikulus!” Pansy cried, and an innocuous pair of dark heeled dance shoes turned purple with yellow spots, beginning to dance on their own.

 “Riddikulus!” half a dozen voices shouted in order, showing everything from a blank darkness to Harry himself holding a snake and hissing. Daphne shot an apologetic look over her shoulder as she made Harry’s tongue fall out. The boggart slapped the ground on its hands and knees as it tried to catch it, but the tongue kept waggling out of reach. The combined laughter of the class, even Harry, finished it off, and it dissolved into smoke. After they were given their homework, the lot of them headed down the hall to lunch.

“Harry,” Daphne Greengrass caught up to him. “I’m really sorry about the boggart. I’m not scared of you, exactly, you know,”

“Oh! It’s fine, Greengrass,” Harry smiled. “It’s not exactly flattering, but I’ve been told my ego could stand a few hits.”

Daphne frowned. “No, Harry, I mean it. Last year was really scary, thinking we would all get petrified or killed. But I never thought you would hurt me. Does that make sense?”

“No, not really.” She sighed.

“Do you remember when Pansy and I set those Valentines on you?”

He laughed. “How could I forget?”

“Now, would I do that if I was scared of you?” He shrugged. “No! But, I’ve always had a fear of snakes.” She shivered. “And the idea that someone could control them, you know, it bugs me. Not that it’s gross, or anything! I’m making a mess of this.” She looked frustrated with herself.

“Thanks for making sure everything was ok, Daphne. I think I understand what you’re trying to say.” She rolled her eyes at him and caught up with Pansy, who obviously needled her about her fear.

“Trying to convince her you wouldn’t send deadly snake assassins to her in the middle of the night?” Blaise hooked an arm around Harry’s shoulders, which made him blink and stagger.

“More like she was trying to convince me she never thought that,” Harry laughed at him. It was weird to have such casual contact again after a summer without.

“I’m disappointed we didn’t get to see your boggart, Potter,” Draco drew up next to them. “Though I suppose it’s for the best after all. We all know what it would be.” The two shared a dark look over Harry’s head.

“What? Oh, no.” Tom or Voldemort, he guessed. “I was thinking of the Dementors.” Though given the thought, it flickered through his head. It was possible he would be more terrified of having that choice again, diary open in front of him and basilisk venom at hand. Through his veins. His leg seized at the thought, and he was grateful for Blaise’s arm. It kept him from falling.

He hissed through his teeth. Blaise took his weight without a word and tipped him into an empty classroom. Harry was lucky the boggart’s little closet had been so far from the Great Hall, or else he would have been in the middle of a crowd of people.

“Has this happened before?” Nott stepped in behind the three of them and closed the door.

Harry nodded, prodding at the old wound with the heel of his palm. “A couple of times over summer. Usually when I think about it too much. It’ll be gone in a minute.”

“I really didn't think something like a lingering injury would bring you low, Potter,” Blaise grimaced at the leg and shook his head.

“We all spend our heroism in different ways, Blaise.” He massaged the spot with a little more pressure, willing it away. “In case you forgot, I sassed McGonagall the other day. That means I used up all my miracles for the week.”

When it had passed, Harry's friends flanked him into the hall.

\--

“He’s my favorite Defense professor ever,” Blaise announced over dinner, breaking an awkward silence.

“It’s not like the bar was high,” Malfoy sneered. “Someone possessed and then someone self-possessed. Lockhart dressed like a circus tent. He dresses like my _house-elf.”_ Harry tried to imagine Dobby in Professor Lupin’s shabby-chic weather-worn robes and laughed. “First Quidditch practice tomorrow,” Draco nudged Harry. “Ready?”

Harry shrugged in return. “What's there to be ready for? Flint's just going to have us fly around a bit. It's not like I actually train with anyone, my job's not a team bit. Hey, who do you think would've been captain if Flint didn't do his seventh year over?”

“You say that like there was ever any doubt he'd fail his NEWTs,” Blaise rolled his eyes. “Pucey or Logsdoddy, probably.”

“Logsdoddy quit after the whole 'petrified' thing, and Pucey hates to make decisions.” Draco took another tart.

“I didn't know she quit,” Harry frowned. “Do you think I should talk to her about it? Or would that make everything worse? Probably worse.” They continued as if he'd never spoke.

“New beaters. Ludwig and Bogdanov. Big stupid-looking sixth years, but I heard they live up to Slytherin's cunning.” Harry nodded absently. So long as they didn't bludger him on purpose, he'd get along with them fine.

\--

Practice passed quickly, and Harry felt better for the fresh air. Draco, Blaise, and Theo started on their reflections for Defense class, and Harry retreated to their room to write in the diary.

_Sorry I haven't made time since start of term. You know how insane it is. We faced a boggart, or at least some of us did. Learned about Animagus, and hippogriffs, and the goblin wars again. Had the first Quidditch practice just today. I know that's not your thing, but there's nothing like flying. Ever met a dementor? They're a bit like you, soul-sucking and annoying._ Three taps of the quill on paper.

_Still no answer? I would have thought that would get you. Alright, bye for now._

He closed the diary and tucked it back underneath the invisibility cloak. Then he tipped his head underneath the bed to look for his familiar. “ _Seshhe?”_ A reflective coil shone in the light he let in, tightening.

Sleeping, then. Harry sighed and collapsed back on the bed. He didn't want to write his reflection on boggarts. He didn't get any practical experience to reflect on, and it felt gross to try and pick apart his classmates' fears. All the same, he had to do something. He grabbed parchment and went to meet his friends. The least he could do was scrape together a paragraph on boggart theory to hand in.

–

The Slytherins had a free period Ron and Hermione were in Divination, so there were only four of them in the library. “Have you been back down there?” Theo asked out of nowhere.

“Where?” Harry happily set aside his potions book. He didn't feel like looking ahead, and Snape hadn't told them which potion was next.

“The Chamber.”

“There’s still a great bloody basilisk, if you’ve forgotten,” Draco grumbled.

“One nobody can know about,” Harry censored sharply, looking over his shoulder at the nearest group- some Ravenclaws. “No. Why would I?” His ears warmed, but he wasn’t quite lying.

“Well,” Theo muttered, “If there was a place in the school, a thousand or so years old, that only I could get to, with possibly ancient and forgotten magic stashed around…”

“But it’s not exactly safe, is it? Basilisk aside,” Harry added to shut Malfoy up. “Also, Myrtle’s started scrapbooking, and I have no idea who’s giving her pictures of me. They all huddle together on one side of the bathroom. She just keeps chasing them.”

Blaise leaned in. “Do you know how much dirt a Hogwarts ghost accumulates? If you can get her in a good mood, you can learn all sorts of things,” he smiled slyly.

“Do you have to use _my_ pictures?” Harry grumbled. Blaise affirmed vehemently.

Theo leaned in, too, essentially closing them off from the rest of the library. “Are you going to go back down there?” He was too focused for Harry to derail him.

“You said it yourself,” Harry grumbled. “Only I can enter the Chamber. You don’t think it’s a good idea to have a bolt hole, if Black really gets into the castle?”

“A bolt hole’s only useful if it’s less dangerous than the outside,” Draco gritted his teeth. “You can’t be that stupid.”

“That’s why I need to check it out further before it’s needed. Seshhe can help. He says he can tell borders of magical traps and territories.”

Harry was saved from further explanation by Hermione slamming her books down next to him. Book-slamming was one of Hermione's least favorite activities, so something must have been really wrong.

“Divination!” Hermione growled, “is possibly the greatest waste of time I have ever seen. Total nonsense!”

“Warned you,” Draco perked up. “What was it? The tea? The general hand-waviness?”

“The so-called 'Professor.' Told Neville he was going to die! First class! I could overlook that, sort of, not at all, because he's been super jumpy and that means Ron can't sleep at all, and I'm his potions  desk partner and isn't _that_ great,”

“Slow, Hermione,” Harry cautioned, a bit afraid she would bite her tongue talking that fast.

“But then she had the nerve to tell me I'm 'closed' to the 'inner world' and I'm 'cold' and 'impossible,'” she ran on like a freight train, peppering in her air quotes. “I'm quitting Divination,” she summarized at last.

“Harry's going back to the Chamber,” Theo blurted out. They rounded on him, but Hermione was already on the new topic. Harry might have strictly prohibited anyone from following him down, but Draco said if Harry didn't return by morning he would tell Snape everything. It only made Harry pick his night carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how this chapter ended up so fragmented... I had a lot of little things, so it feels more like a filler chapter than it should. But next chapter I'm really excited for, and want to do justice... exploring the chamber! I know you're all still reading this for the promise of some home renovation scenes. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

He wouldn’t be going back to the Chamber as quickly as he thought. Harry had been busy with classes and all, but time seemed to pass at a dizzying speed. Before he knew it, Blaise was distracting him with the Autumnal Equinox party. Nott looked shifty. It wasn’t the best memory for any of them, but it was probably worst for him. Harry was determined, this year, to somehow make it better. It would help that Bole had left for Durmstrang, but it wasn’t enough to just make it a passable experience. He had to make it fun.

He started with Blaise in the morning, when he was nicer. “Well,” Zabini looked downward in thought. “Last year, we had the illusionary forest. That was pretty cool, before Bole ruined it. Do you know who set it up? That sixth-year muggleborn, Roggenbloom.” He nodded to himself. “I think we could do better with the lights and refreshments. I’ll get on that. Rather, I’ll get the house elves on the food, I’ll do the lights.”

Harry was delighted that Blaise had taken to improving the event so readily. It made his job that much easier, and he didn’t have to ask Theo, who he wasn’t sure wanted anything to do with the party.

“Don’t push for a costume party,” was Draco’s submission. “Overdone, tacky, I don’t have an outfit ready.”

“You’re not very helpful,” Harry huffed.

“I don’t need to be helpful,” he grinned in return. “I’m rich.”

 

“Roggenbloom?” He approached her at the breakfast table. She finished chewing and turned to him. “You did the illusions last year at the equinox party, right?” He’d said the right thing. She lit up from the inside.

“Yes! Did you have an idea for this year? I was thinking forest again, the whole hunt aesthetic, but it’s been done, you know?”

Harry nodded, not actually following. “Do you make the illusions from things you’ve seen?”

“Oh, yeah. Last year’s was just the Dark Forest. I made sure to choose a less threatening area, though.”

“Would you mind staying up late in the common room tonight? There’s this trick I’d like to show you, I think it would be a great illusion for the party.”

She looked amused, but agreed.

 

When Harry came out to the common room, Roggenbloom was waiting. She was writing an essay, but looked up when he entered. “Hi, Harry. Can you show me this surprising trick now?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. _Tempus._ ” The time was 10:57. “We’ve got to wait until 11:57.” She frowned, but she had a free period the next morning. She decided to see where it went. Harry did his best to focus on his own work, but he fell asleep face-down before 11:30. Roggenbloom woke him before time.

“Now can I see this miraculous thing?” Harry nodded and worked quickly, counting stones from the fireplace.

“Here,” he pointed to the right place. “You have to be standing right here when the minute turns.” He waited patiently as she experienced the same wonder he had last year, and when the minute released her she laughed.

“Wow! That was worth staying up late for. Yeah, I think I can make something like that for the party. Cool idea. Now, I’m going to bed,” she yawned, proving her point. “You should too!”

\--

Harry put on the same robes as last year, the ones gifted from Malfoy Senior. Mr. Malfoy had set Dobby to brainwash him at the time, but that was no reason to throw out good clothes. The scene when he entered the common room was breathtaking. Roggenbloom had done a great job with the illusion, and Blaise’s fairy lights darted around the room to hover over scintillating conversation. The house elves had set out dishes on each empty table, covered in sweets and crackers and finger food of all kinds. He greeted a few people, moving through the room, and radiated to the edge to think.

It was so familiar, and Harry couldn’t put his finger on the source of the feeling until he got out of the thick of it, back against the windows. The air was different from last year. When people sniped at each other, which happened often, it wasn’t as malicious. The air rippled with reflections off the walls, which were deep blue but just solid enough that people wouldn’t walk into them. It felt like a house he could be part of. He felt like he was playing the part of Tom Riddle in the 1930s, watching from the outside, feeling at home. All that was missing was…

“How is it, Harry? All that you expected?” People come to bother him. Namely, Draco.

“Yes, actually. It’s perfect. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted, other than to overwrite the last memory, but… this is nice.” He leaned back further, looking around. “Have you seen Theo?”

“I think he’s still in the room,” Draco sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to go drag him out?”

Harry tilted his head quizzically. “Why would I ask you to? I was just going to say I would.”

“Just enjoy the party, Harry. This time last year you were half-wiped and five seconds away from possession. I’ll get Theo to enjoy himself,” he assured Harry, rolling his eyes.

That was all very nice of him, but Harry wasn’t sure how one was supposed to enjoy a party. Dinner parties at the Dursleys were clinking, reserved affairs, concerned with business or normalcy. Feasts were very much like parties, he supposed, but they also revolved around food. Most of the people in the room had believed he was going to kill someone last year. Some of them had supported the idea.

He let his shoulders relax, rolling them against the stone. It wasn’t his job to fix them, was it? This was a party. He waded in, picking a sweetmeat from one of the trays and savoring the taste of lemon. He greeted people, drank in the festive atmosphere. He left Blaise to his own devices, as he certainly didn’t need any help.

Draco succeeded in drawing Theo out, then proceeded to get him to dance, blushing heavily, with a bright-eyed second year. Harry was laughing at them until Pansy snagged him for her own dance, correcting him every other step until she nearly fell, laughing, and let him just swing them about with no sense of rhythm. Eventually Draco took pity on them both and cut in, swirling in a complicated step that the rest of the purebloods knew. Harry booed good-naturedly and grabbed a drink.

The music changed from classical to upbeat, and the couples split to dance wildly. People were getting tired, dropping into armchairs and couches, or onto each other when those seats were full. They were high on excitement, giddy on magic, exhausted and elated. When the clock struck midnight, the whole room let loose a hunting shout, then dissipated like nothing had happened. The walls melted to their regular dull grey. The trays disappeared back to the kitchens. Harry let himself be swept back to his room, filled with joy and confused by the strange customs of wizards.

\--

Harry ventured back to the Chamber of Secrets a week after the party, two weeks after he would have liked, but he made it. He decided on leaving in the early morning, instead of bringing the attention

“ _Are you going back down?”_ His familiar asked, coming out of the shadows when Harry set his feet to the floor. He had his bag ready for the day, in case he found anything interesting. He slung it over his shoulder before he reached a hand for Seshhe.

_“Yes. Do you want to come?”_ In response, the snake wound himself around Harry’s shoulders. Harry adjusted his grip, threw the shroud of the invisibility cloak over both of them, and headed up to the girls bathroom. “ _There has to be a better entrance. Not only do I have to go up then down, a girl’s bathroom…”_ Seshhe had no answer to that.

When he reached the sink, Harry paused. He had half-expected the bathroom to be sealed off, the snake motif destroyed. He drew off the cloak and rolled it into his bag. Why would the Headmaster allow the Chamber to be so close to students, when he didn’t want Harry to go down there? It was probably another test, but Harry didn’t care. Wherever Myrtle was, she wasn’t showing herself. Her pinned board of pictures moved slowly in the moonlight from the window.

Seshhe watched as he opened the sink, then slithered down to be safely cradled on his stomach as Harry slid down the tunnel. It was just as disgusting as he remembered, if a bit drier. They hit the ground with a soft thump, and Sesshe tangled in Harry’s hands before winding back up around his shoulders.

Harry treaded over the little skeletons, picked his way past rubble and questionably dripping things, and came to the doorway that Snape must have created. He was preoccupied at the time, but he realized now how smooth the walls of the little tunnel were. What spell was that precise? Did they have a singular spell for forming a tunnel through collapsed stone? Or was the force of the blast strong enough to pulverize everything in its path, so it blasted outward into the cracks?

“ _Harry,”_ Seshhe approximated in Parseltongue.

“ _Right. Got distracted.”_ Harry continued past the wall of rock and into the Chamber proper.

The immense hall was still flooded, still reeked of mildew and a little like death. The huge statue of Salazar Slytherin took up the far end, where Harry knew the basilisk slumbered. That is, if Dumbledore kept his word. Harry thought he must have. How would he get into the Chamber to kill it?

Harry stepped carefully through the puddles, though he couldn’t avoid getting the hem of his robes wet. He tried to stay quiet if he couldn’t stay dry. The basilisk might have been in hibernation again, but there was no need to test if snakes experienced irritation in the morning.

In fact, the basilisk was sleeping. When Harry whispered open the entrance to her little den she looked near dead, scales unmoving. The only reason Harry knew she lived was the bellows of her breath. _“I want to be big, too,”_ Seshhe perked up. Harry stepped backward into the chamber, closing the door again before he replied.

_“I thought you liked your size?”_

_“No, I want to be big,”_ Seshhe curled. _“Better. Not so big, but heavy. She’s heavy.”_

_“Magic-heavy?”_ Seshhe nodded against his neck. Harry splashed his way across the Chamber, sure that the basilisk wouldn’t wake. He tried to trace the open square of the room, which had him dropping down almost to swimming lengths in the brackish water. He had to backtrack and keep his distance from the wall several times. When he’d almost made a full circle, back on the other side of Slytherin’s statue, he found an inconspicuous door. It blended in with the stone walls of the Chamber. It didn’t have a doorknob, only a snake on the post, waiting patiently.

“ _Hello,”_ he prodded. The little snake glowed faintly green, and the door opened. It scraped through the water as it pressed open, lapping ripples across the room and into the space beyond the door.

That space was a library. The books were for the most part preserved, though moisture had come in and moldered the edges of the bottom shelf. Whatever charms protected them, they hadn’t counted on water. The doorway on the other end hinted of other rooms.

Harry pulled a book off the shelf carefully. His first thought was that it couldn’t be as old as the Chamber. He could read the writing, for one. Hermione had shown him what gibberish the old wizards used to write in, and this wasn’t it. Even with a few more ' _f'_ s instead of ‘ _s’,_ he could count the book as English. It was some kind of transfiguration text.

When he placed the book carefully back in its place, something down the row caught his eye. It was a scrap of parchment, not even large enough to be a page, shoved in between two books.  He wiggled it out carefully, wary of crumbling edges. It didn’t look as modern as the transfiguration book, but that might have been a virtue of handwriting. Harry had to squint to read it.

_Slytherin_ was simple to read, familiar. He didn’t recognize individual words in the text. _Hordweard. Drýcræft. Edhwierft_ **.**

Luckily, someone else had scribbled on the back. “Slytherin’s Heir, magic passed down, magic always returns,” Harry read out loud. He made note of the cryptic scrap and shoved it right back where it came from. A more studious person might have spent days on the books from just one shelf of that room, but Harry was curious about what lay beyond.

The doorway at the other end of the little library stood open, as if someone had just left. It squeaked suddenly as Harry opened it further, making him jump. Seshhe wiggled his tail in a laugh.

Shaking his head, Harry continued down a little hallway to a closed door. He knew what to expect, and was less shocked by the stubborn creak of neglected hinges.

It was, or once was, a bedroom. A familiar looking four-poster bed dominated the space, with a little side table holding a rickety lamp to match. The mattress was filthy. Harry didn’t think too hard about the shape of it, or the smell, or the dark stain that spread over the side. He closed the door.

Harry held his familiar close as he continued. His thoughts lingered on the thing in the bedroom. He should probably be more careful. A place like this had ancient charms on it, hexes, protection against intruders. He didn’t know how to guard against any of those things.

“ _Seshhe, can you sense any wards?”_

Seshhe wriggled in delight at the question, then tasted the air. “ _Let me down.”_ Harry made a face at the dirty floor, but let Seshhe down all the same. The snake made a little circle around him right there in the hallway, then followed the line of the wall down to the next door. “ _This one is safe.”_ He waited for Harry to put his hand on the doorknob before adding, _“I think.”_ Harry pushed the door open and let out his held breath. Just a bathroom.

“ _This place must have been built after the main part, then. When indoor rain came around.”_

_“Look again, I think. There’s magic here.”_ Oh, Harry thought. It did look different than a modern bathroom. He actually didn’t want to look too close. The main setup was the same- a hollow curtained area, that would be the bath. Only a curtain frame stood where fabric moldered through and crumpled into a great mess on the floor. There was a standing mirror with what must have been intended as a stone seat in front of it. And a private walled corner where Harry could extrapolate a discreet hole might be.

“I suppose when you can use _Aguamenti_ and _Evanesco,_ the bathroom is a little more ornament than necessity. _Let’s move on,”_ he added for Seshhe’s benefit.

Seshhe led them further down the hall. “ _Safe,”_ He pronounced in front of the final door. “ _Some old magic, just remnants. Not harmful.”_

“ _Why would there be no protections? Not one hex against intruders?”_

_“This place was built for the snake-speakers. Why protect against the Heir?”_

Harry supposed that made sense. He pushed open the final door and recoiled, snapping a hand against his nose as he gagged. He stepped away from the room until his eyes stopped streaming. “ _What is that?”_

_“Rotten food,”_ Sheshhe replied matter-of-factly.

_“That’s it?”_

_“Well, I think maybe the fungus spread over it, and then some magic failed in there, and bugs hatched, and…”_

_“Stop, I’ll be sick.”_ Despite his words, Harry gripped an edge of his robe to his face and walked back to what must have been the kitchen. He barely registered that his robes smelled like the standing water of the main hall. That would beat this stench any day.

It was just as bad as the smell suggested. Black fuzz gripped the corners of the room, and what might have been a recessed pantry was covered in the desiccated remains of some exploded fruit. Or- Harry looked closer. The remains of a door, warped and rotted, lay underneath the mess. What Harry thought was fruit was meat. He stepped out of the room to think. It had been a cold room! And when the charms failed, the meat spoiled, and whatever parasites lived in the meat were allowed to warm and grow. Gross. But a little fascinating. Would it be bad to have a fire down here? If he could just _Incendio_ it all… no, that smoke would be toxic. And maybe crack the stone. He sighed, brushing his hands against his robes. Just being near that room made his skin crawl, but he pulled his robes over his mouth again and stepped in just enough to see the mess. The incantation “ _Skurge”_ had no discernable effect. He belatedly remembered that different scouring charms had different purposes, and they hadn’t exactly covered rotten meat. He wanted to try and banish it all, focus intent and give his wand a wave, but there were too many horror stories. With his luck, he’d banish the nauseating mess into his own bed. Harry turned his back on the kitchen.

It wasn’t a large suite of rooms by any means. It looked like a temporary living space for someone to research, or make use of the library. Harry picked up Seshhe and made his way carefully back out to the main hall. At the doorway, he looked out over the rippling surface. The only visible ground was around the statue and the central walkway. Surely the whole thing couldn’t have been empty space? He knew the level of the ground varied around the wall. If only he could drain the water. “ _Drain,”_ he tried in Parseltongue. Nothing. Of course, if the plumbing came after the Chamber itself, the water wouldn’t have been intentional. He sighed.

First thing he could think of was to see where the water was coming from. There was a spell… he wracked his brain for it, something about a source… Harry yawned. Of course, he had left the dorm at about four, so… “ _Tempus.”_

He scrambled to pick up Seshhe, respectfully as he could.

“ _Hey! I should bite you for that.”_ Instinctively, Seshhe curled back on what picked him up around the middle. “ _Nearly thought you were an eagle. Or an owl. You look more like an owl.”_

_“_ I’m so late. So, so late.”

“ _You know I can’t understand that,”_ Seshhe complained.

“ _It’s time for my first lesson already! I can’t track time well underground.”_

 

Flitwick raised impressive eyebrows at him when he slammed through the doors. “Joining us after all, Mr. Potter?” Harry flushed, gripping his bag. The class had stopped what they were practicing to turn and look at him. It didn’t help that Seshhe was still curled tightly around him, irritated from the run. “Familiars are prohibited in class. However, seeing as if you left now you would miss the lesson altogether, it may stay, if it can behave.” Draco had saved Harry’s usual seat, and Harry settled into it gratefully.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“It’ll still be five points from Slytherin. Now, back to your practice, everyone, and do try not to shatter them!” There were broken pieces of vase all over the classroom, rattling now and again as each person muttered ‘ _Reparo.’_

“ _Stay near me,”_ he told Seshhe, which made half the class turn right back and stare at him again. “Hello, Draco.” The blonde was sneering at him in true Malfoy fashion, a perfectly repaired vase in front of him. Harry looked up to the board and the wand motions, then at the vase Flitwick generously summoned for him.

“I take it you were busy, considering you weren’t in the dorm when we all woke up,” Draco muttered. “Working on any nefarious plans? Have a nice meeting with some girl or something?” Considering Harry’s ‘girl’ was a giant snake, he wouldn’t be teasing, but perhaps Draco had an abiding wish to be petrified.

Harry reached out and, keeping Draco’s eyes, tipped his vase over onto the ground. Draco frowned and cast the repairing charm again. Harry kept a close eye on the wand movement.

“ _Diffindo,”_ neatly cut the vase in two with some cracking. “ _Reparo,”_ mimicked from the motions next to him, did… something. The crack was sealed, but it was also fizzling in an alarming manner. When Harry looked at Draco nervously, the other boy repaired it himself.

That was as far as he got before class ended and Flitwick was ushering them out. Harry wanted more than anything to go and take a nap. Given his state of exhaustion, the day was understandably miserable, but he still made time at dinner to ask Hermione about industrial-strength cleaning charms. Ron was more helpful. Mrs. Weasley had a lot of cleaning to do in a house of nine people, and Ron learned by exposure. He also took offense at the insinuation that he wouldn’t listen to his mother, which earned Draco a dirty look.

Harry smiled vacantly at the thought of getting all the gunk off the walls of the chamber, then nearly took a header into his bowl of soup. He muttered a thank you to Blaise’s quick hands, then leaned back. He had _plans,_ he had a place, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

\--

Harry’s plans didn’t count on either Snape or Professor Dumbledore. It was almost like Snape could see the guilt wafting off of him in Potions class. He kept giving Harry the squinty eyes, looming over his potion. Harry forgot what he was supposed to be making twice. At first he attributed this to Snape’s annoying attention, but then saw Pansy shooting her Confundus Charm over her cauldron instead of at it, hitting Harry. With Snape’s hovering, he couldn’t cast back and she knew it. He stuck out his tongue at her instead, which felt juvenile but at least slid beneath the head of house’s radar.

When his Confusing Concoction was finished, he bottled it up and showed it to Snape, who kept giving him that slimy look and didn’t once look at the potion before giving it a middling grade. Harry wasn’t going to contest it- if he had actually made a middling potion under the influence of Confundus, he’d eat the Sorting Hat. Snape was distracted. He was distracted trying to figure out what Harry’d done wrong this time, and that promised detention in his future. He would tell Blaise, so he could get a good grade in Divination for once.

Harry struggled with his options as he packed up his materials. He could try to keep the secret. That wasn’t going to last long, with how easily his friends had figured it out. He could tell Snape, which would get him- maybe- a shorter detention. And it would get him barred from the Chamber, with a solid promise he couldn’t wiggle through. As he deliberated, the class emptied. Harry blew a heavy breath through his teeth and finally slid his Potions book away. He wasn’t going to tell Snape today, not and give him the impression he’d been intimidated into it.

When he left the classroom, he bumped right into Hermione. Hermione, who was supposed to be halfway across the castle on the way to Charms. Harry looked back into the classroom, but Hermione had definitely left first of everyone. “Did you forget something?” Harry asked. Hermione’s hand was clenched around a bright gold necklace. It didn’t look like something she would wear.

Hermione, several shades paler than usual, let loose a span of curses that would have had Ron looking around for his mother. Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Hermione dragged him down the hall to an alcove. It was guarded by a disgruntled looking gargoyle.

“I can’t believe I messed up this bad,” Hermione ran one of her hands through her hair, giving up when it got snagged. She looked exhausted.

“It’s alright, ok? Why don’t you explain everything? Starting with your fashion statement, and why you look twelve steps from fainting.” He nodded at her necklace. Her hand still gripped it like it was going to run away, but Harry could see a little glass through her fingers.

“It’s called a Time Turner.” She tucked it back under her robes. “I’ve been using it to get to all the electives I’m taking.”

“It… turns back time? That’s amazing!” Harry’s head filled with possibilities of time travel, of instances where it might have happened.

“Shh, Harry! It’s so dangerous. It’s bad enough you know, you can’t tell anyone. Please?” Hermione covered the slight lump with her palm, like she could take the secret back.

“How is it dangerous?”

“Well, imagine seeing yourself while you’re heading to a class. Mental, right?”

“Well, not if I knew I could travel in time!”

“Just trust me, Harry. Time magic isn’t the most stable thing. I can never see myself, or know when I’m going to use the time turner. Then I would only go because I knew, does that make sense? It’s a paradox.”

Harry nodded slowly, though he trusted Hermione understood more than he did. “So every time you use it, you have to stay out of your own way and not tell anyone which ‘you’ is actually living the day for the first time.”

She wiped a hand down her face, blew out a heavy breath, and nodded. “That’s the gist of it, I suppose?”

Harry’s own tiredness was all but forgotten. “So you need a place out of the way to study, right?” He was leaning forward at the prospect, and Hermione was growing wary. “How about I trade you a secret for a secret?”

 

Hermione wasn’t impressed by the Chamber’s hall, remembering crashing through the rubble to find both Harry and Ginny nearly dead. The library did catch her attention for a moment. When she went to move through the far door, Harry stepped in front. “Oh, I wouldn’t go past the library.” She raised one impressive eyebrow, and he knew that denying her would only make her investigate. “All right, I just- I wouldn’t go in the bedroom. That’s the one with the closed door. I haven’t cleaned it… I haven’t gotten around to cleaning anything, yet, but I especially don’t want to clean that room. I think someone died in there.” Hermione drew back.

“You mean they died in there and they’re _still_ in there?” When Harry nodded, she pushed past him and down the hall to the bedroom door. She took a deep breath of relatively clean air before she opened it, only to let it out when she was faced with the soiled bed. She closed the door just as quickly. “Harry, that’s awful. You need to tell Dumbledore, he’d find out who it was!”

“I bet you could find out who it was,” Harry said. “If Dumbledore knew I was coming down here, I might get expelled!”

“If McGonagall finds out I broke the rules for the Time Turner, _I_ could be expelled.”

Harry smiled. “Exactly. A secret for a secret.” Hermione frowned at him, probably weighing her disgruntlement at being blackmailed against the fact Harry had just shown her an awful lot of trust. Less than she was imagining, since Harry was sure half of Slytherin house knew he would be back to the Chamber, including Snape, but still. Trust.

 

Hermione was going to keep the secret. Harry could already tell. He knew when she went back into the library and perched on a slightly soggy and dilapidated chair, her eyes flickering along the spines of books she couldn’t read. At least, she couldn’t read them yet. He could practically see the curiosity eating her alive, until her eyes settled on him and the guilt started to chew at her instead.

“I can bring you down here whenever you want.” Harry lifted himself on his heels and back on the other side of the library, not wanting to crowd her or make her feel pressured. “I’ll never know if it’s future you or not, so that’s not a problem. And you know you won’t run into yourself if you’re out of the way.”

“I should give it back to McGonagall,” Hermione said wretchedly. “I should drop a few classes and tell her you found out, so I can’t use it anymore.”

Harry tilted his head earnestly. Later, he would remember the gesture from Tom, and it would make him feel a little sick. In the moment, it felt right. “I swear I won’t tell anyone. McGonagall doesn’t know I know, and I won’t use it against you. You know I can’t, because then you would tell about the Chamber, anyway.” She groaned and set her head in her hands, and Harry won.

Harry hadn’t even known about the back way until Hermione squinted at a dark blotch on the wall next to the door. It led to a suspicious staircase, which Harry scaled first. It grew narrower and shorter, until they emerged from a crouch behind a short portrait of an orange tree. When Harry turned to look at the portrait, a tiny snake nodded at him from its perch wrapped around a twig. It nodded at Hermione, too.

“ _Would you let her in, if she asks?”_ Harry asked the snake. It nodded again, flicking its tongue to scent the air. “Try asking, Hermione.”

Hermione drew herself up, eyes wide. “I don’t know any- um,” Harry smiled.

“No, just ask.”

“May I come in?” She addressed the snake politely. The portrait swung open to show the spiraling staircase. Hermione grinned at him, and swung it closed again. “I suppose you won’t have to bring me down, after all, then?”

Harry shrugged. “Might want to, the first few times. I’m sure the basilisk won’t wake from hibernation, but who knows what else might be down there. And I don’t know if it would be… unethical? Using the turner for something other than school, I mean. But I could really use some help getting the Chamber into a better state. If you have the time,” Harry decidedly did not draw attention to the pun. “I’d appreciate it. Even if it’s only in the library. I haven’t had the chance to try out Ron’s spells from yesterday.” Hermione’s eyes sparkled at the challenge. Harry won yet again.

\--

Quidditch practice on Saturday was brutal. It should have been wonderful. The sun was shining, a little breeze lifting the hair off Harry’s forehead. The first match wasn’t for another month. The Dementors weren’t anywhere near the pitch, but their proximity hung over the team unpleasantly. Harry mostly swung from one team member to the next, watching, not bothering to catch the snitch. It wasn’t as if Flint was going to yell at him for it. He tried out a few tricks, hung upside down, looped. It just wasn’t as exhilarating as it usually was. Flint took pity on the team and ended early.

On the way off the pitch, a dark shape moved through the grass toward the team. A few players stepped back in fear, but Harry recognized it before it got too close. “It’s my familiar,” he apologized to the team. A few kept watching as Harry lifted Seshhe up and around his shoulders, but for the most part they lost interest.

“ _What brings you all the way out here?”_ he asked.

_“Restless. Trying out Her tunnels.”_ The basilisk’s pipes would be as good as paved roads for a little snake, and Harry was pleasantly surprised at his ingenuity. When he said as much, the snake preened.

Since Harry hadn’t precisely gotten in trouble for Seshhe in Charms, he figured he could bring him to dinner. It meant Seshhe got a true meal on Harry’s magic, which put him in a better mood. Harry could also send him back to the dorms on his own without feeling guilty, as the snake could speak his way in past the false wall.

The humans at the table were talking about the Chamber again, naturally. Harry took a break from the cyclical argument for a moment to ask his familiar about his impressions. The other Slytherins hadn’t precisely gotten used to Harry speaking in Parseltongue at the table, but they weren’t hexing him over it, so it was probably alright.

Seshhe considered his question for a moment, then returned, “ _It was a living space, but it was not a wizard home.”_

“ _What does that mean?”_

_“It’s about the quality of magic. When a wizard repeatedly sleeps in a den, nothing happens. But when he has his meals there, keeps his collection, widens the rooms and curls up, brings in offspring…”_

“Oh…” Harry dropped his fork out of the blue, interrupting Blaise’s conversation. When they all had turned to him, he leaned in close and struggled to keep his voice down over his excitement. “The Chamber wasn’t a home, it was a _living space,_ it was for defense against Muggle raids- I’m telling you, the Chamber of Secrets was meant to be a _bunker._ ”

The four purebloods exchanged glances, but Harry wasn’t crazy. “It’s a Muggle type of underground, siege-proof area, where a group of people can live. Merlin, Salazar Slytherin was brilliant, listen: Muggles get in the school. The first thing they would do is chase down every witch and wizard they can find. The only place to hide is somewhere they wouldn’t think to look. And once the students are safe under the school, you send out the nearly unkillable giant snake to deal with the threat.” And, he thought to himself, that was precisely how he would deal with Sirius Black. Petrify him, then have him locked up again until Harry could look the man in the face and condemn him.

Draco put down his fork and got serious. “Are you sure you want to be down there, messing with the Chamber?”

 “Why shouldn’t I clean it up? It’s mine.”

“You aren’t really the Heir though,” Blaise pointed out, more to be contrary than because he believed it.

“Well it certainly isn’t anyone else’s! Voldemort can’t have it!” that last might have been a bit too loud, if the stares were any indication. Harry rolled his eyes. “What’s the harm in cleaning the place up in some free hours? It’s a historical part of the school.”

“One nobody can get into but you,” Ron mumbled. Hermione ducked her face further into her book to avoid the conversation. Theo was also silent, but watched carefully.

Seshhe oscillated protectively, and Harry raised a hand to smooth him back down. “Exactly. And with a mass murderer on the loose, I love that idea.” There wasn’t much argument to that, at least.

\--

Halloween dawned clear and bright, nearly warm despite the season. Harry didn’t want to get out of bed. His sheets were bundled around his legs, which meant he had kicked in his sleep. He got up and brushed his teeth and got ready for the day, but nobody could make him happy about it.

When the Slytherins walked in to Defense and saw Snape, Harry thought for a moment that their head of house had finally lost what was left of his sanity. He looked furious, and his greasy hair was uncommonly disheveled. Why would Lupin let Snape, of all people, take his class?

“Sit down, and quickly,” he sneered. “There’s a lot to cover today, mostly due to your usual teacher’s incompetence.” The class bristled, but knew better than to speak out. Snape didn’t notice. He didn’t even look suspicious of Harry, which in itself made Harry apprehensive.

He proceeded to lecture dryly about werewolves, a topic that Harry thought nobody could make boring. Snape was informative, direct, insightful, and in almost all respects a good teacher, but the subject irritated him. Every so often he would snap at a student for not taking good enough notes. At the end of the class, he tasked everyone with an essay to be handed in to him.

“What’s wrong with Professor Snape?” Harry asked Draco once they were safely out of the classroom and out of earshot.

“He’s always wanted to be the Defense professor, but Dumbledore’s denied him every year. Maybe having it and not having it is aggravating. It’s not the easiest subject, either, that could be part of it. A lot of wizards are frightened of werewolves. You-Know-Who used them in the war. He might be remembering it.”

“Strange, though, that we weren’t anywhere near werewolves in the bestiary.” Theo scratched at his head.

 “Strange that he was more focused on the lesson than Harry’s terrible sketches.” Draco mimed furious scribbling, ducking his head as he walked and sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Those were diagrams!”

“Sure. You know, Snape might find you more tolerable if you improved your handwriting. He’s said as much.” They entered the Great Hall, tables already full of lunch.

“He said something would make me more tolerable? Wait, you talk to Professor Snape about me?”

“In passing. He visits the Manor every once in a while, I saw him over the summer. You entered our conversation when the topic of your terribly rude inability to mail came up.” Malfoy sent him a direct look over the dollop of potatoes he was putting on his plate.

“Don’t have an owl,” Harry responded promptly.

Theo volunteered, “You could use the postal service, off Diagon.”

“Can’t leave the house,” he said more quietly. “At least, not as far as Diagon Alley. If I asked permission to go to a magical post office, I think my uncle might keel over in rage.”

“He gave you permission for Hogsmeade, didn’t he?”

Harry grinned into his sandwich. “In a manner of speaking. At the time, he was in a certain amount of gastrointestinal distress.” Unfortunately, he said this at the same time McGonagall was passing by the table. Harry froze and tried not to look terribly guilty, but felt it on his face all the same.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, her gaze flat on him. At length, she cleared her throat and gestured at him. “I believe you’re losing your lettuce, Mr. Potter.” In fact, Harry’s sandwich took that opportunity to dump itself down the front of his robes. McGonagall swept away, and Harry tilted his head back to stare at the clouds drifting by.

“She must like you,” Theo said jealously. “She didn’t even deduct points, nevermind rescinding your Hogsmeade permission.”

“Probably knows what a lot of dunderheads the Dursleys are,” Draco surveyed Harry’s soggy dilemma. “Are you going to clean that up?”

Harry looked down at himself and picked up what he could, then hit his robes with one of the cleaning charms Ron had recommended. It did the job, perhaps a little too well. His front was decidedly threadbare, though it seemed structurally sound. He could catch glimpses of his shirt if he looked straight through it.

Harry directed a pitiful look at Blaise, who was already surveying him with a long-suffering look. “Why do you always ask for help _after_ you’ve made the problem hard to fix?” But he was already pushing back the sleeve on his wand hand. Harry smiled and set Seshhe down on the bench. His familiar was slow and wiggly from a strong magic meal, and puddled to the floor obligingly so he wouldn’t be sat on. Harry stood and stepped back a little, so Blaise wouldn’t hit food on accident.

Harry didn’t catch the spell, but it did the trick. He was no longer covered in sandwich bits or showing squares of undershirt. He proclaimed Blaise his favorite for the day and commandeered him for the walk to Herbology. This in itself wasn’t a reward for Blaise. He didn’t care who he walked with. But the formality of it pissed Draco off, which Blaise found hilarious.

Herbology itself was boring, teasing Draco aside. They weren’t even in a greenhouse. They were studying moly, a little flowering plant that was good against enchantment. Honestly, Harry thought it looked a little like something Aunt Petunia would call common and throw out of her garden as a weed. Actually, she would have Harry throw it out as a weed. They talked about the properties of the flower, the bulb, and then they watered and fertilized rows of them. Harry felt like free labor. Still, the sun was shining and he got to dig in the dirt. His back ached a little, but it wasn’t so bad. By the time class was over, three full lines of bulbs butted against the courtyard, roped off with a set of spells. It felt like an achievement.

Half of the class sprinted to their rooms, Harry’s dorm mates included. Blaise fell to a Leg-Lock Jinx, so Draco got first. When they were all clean and dressed again, they went down to the Halloween Feast. They were bone tired and giddy enough that the subject of the Chamber didn’t come up, and they had a rare peaceful meal, complete with complaining about Snape’s assignment and the horrors of manual labor, interspersed with swooping bats and pumpkin pasties. Harry felt younger, suddenly, free of the knowledge of the day. He ate until he felt sick. He staggered over to the Gryffindor table and watched the twins actually get sick, then booked it back to Slytherin where nobody was going to start a chain of vomit.

It was, for lack of a better word, miraculous.

 

Changed into pajamas and still blissfully stuffed, Harry sighed happily and dug into the bed, burrowing under the covers. His full stomach pressed against the mattress uncomfortably, and he pulled his hands up to support his head. The diary was under his pillow.

Harry turned it over in his hands, not pulling it out to look. His index finger found the familiar scratch down the front by feel. “Were you lying,” he mumbled to himself, “when you said you’d find a way to come back?” Harry felt ridiculous. He sighed, rolled off the bed, and tucked the diary into his trunk. He would give it a rest for just a few days. Maybe the magic needed to build up again, and incessantly writing in it was keeping it inert. Maybe he could pretend to be normal for a while.

When Harry was just standing, having draped a corner of the invisibility cloak over the diary, he heard pounding footsteps coming down the hall. It was all the Slytherin prefects, rapping on doors and rounding everyone up. They didn't say much, but when he got to the common room Harry asked Slytherin's Serpent.

“ _What's happened?”_ Harry ignored the murmuring of the crowd behind him. None of the first-years had heard Parseltongue before, and the rest were disconcerted by it to say the least. “ _Can you ask the other images what's going on?”_

_“No need, little master. I know. There has been an attack on the lion's house.”_

_“_ An attack on Gryffindor tower,” Harry translated for his friends, which was overheard and circulated. “ _An attack by who?”_

_“Black, the one they call black.”_

Harry stared up at the painting in horror. Black was inside the school? Already? He wasn’t ready, the Chamber wasn’t… He didn't have time to ask anything more, as Snape came in and ushered them all to the Great Hall. The tables were pushed to the walls, and lines of sleeping bags scattered the floor. The Gryffindors were already there.

“Ron! Hermione!” Harry called, unembarrassed. Most of the hall turned to look, but he achieved his goal; Ron and Hermione left the group of their House and came to talk to him. Hermione was all in pink, with braided hair. Harry grinned at her.

Hermione flushed. “I room with other girls, you know. I do have friends outside of you lot. And sometimes, we braid hair. We even paint each other’s nails.” She tilted her head towards a group of Gryffindor girls. Indeed, two of them had their hair up in identical braids. “Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.”

“I didn't say a word,” Harry defended. “I was just worried about you guys.”

Ron was too busy glaring at Crookshanks, enfolded in Hermione's arms, to add anything to the conversation. Blaise suggested helpfully that they snag bags close to each other before Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw showed.

“Is it true?” Harry lowered his voice and everyone leaned in, bags drawn together out of their perfect lines. “Sirius Black is responsible for all this?”

Ron blinked at him. “Black? Why would he attack Gryffindor? All I know is that the Fat Lady's all torn up.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What House were Harry's parents in? Houses sometimes run in families. Black might have assumed Harry was Gryffindor, too.”

“Quiet,” Snape's voice pitched over them. With the Hall door barred, surrounded by students and teachers, Harry felt safe. He didn't get why they had to be quiet as well.

“Harry?” Hermione leaned up on her elbow once Snape had passed. “How did you know about Black?”

“Serpent told me, in the common room. I think he might be tied into the school wards, somehow. I think all the House guardians are. Maybe more paintings than just the guardians.”

“That's fascinating,” Hermione started, stars reflected in her eyes from the sky above. “Can you imagine how ancient the-”

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall's voice interrupted from behind them. “There is a time for everything, and now it is time to sleep. Not theorize. If you please,” she pointed with her wand, and Hermione's sleeping bag zipped up the side, effectively cocooning her. She gave the rest of them a quelling glance, and they dutifully fell back into their sleeping bags.

Before he fell asleep, Harry wondered idly whether Professor Lupin was on the search team, as he was nowhere to be seen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter! Thank you for being so patient with me, and thanks for the comments! You guys are so nice!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading :)


End file.
